


vow of silence

by byronicmaiden



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: 1990s, Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, Childhood Trauma, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, References to Shakespeare, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Repressed Memories, Surreal, Trauma, and then goes catatonic, set at the end of the game when blake finally remembers everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byronicmaiden/pseuds/byronicmaiden
Summary: At the end of the world, Blake Langermann remembers.(companion piece tointo temptation)
Kudos: 3





	vow of silence

He was so young when it happened. The memory clings to the darkest corners of his mind like a cobweb that just won’t disappear. How long until it died? Until it just dissolved, disappeared into the water of his mind, the waves carrying it out to sea? It was like an itch he refused to scratch. The longer he ignored it, the worse it got.

His memories were like flashes of a movie he couldn’t remember the name of. The truth was interwoven with fiction, and there was nothing he could be certain of. He doubted his doubt and he doubted his doubt about his doubt. _Did this really happen? Did I dream it? Did I make it up? Am I just crazy?_

He wondered if he even wanted to know. If when he finally reached the dam that held back his memories, if when he finally unlocked the door, the blood would spill out in waves and drown him. _But I would know_ , he thinks. _I would finally know the truth_. And maybe then he can let the blood engulf him and fill his lungs and drag him down deep like Ophelia in the river. He supposed, at this point, he must be as mad as she was.

Deep down he knows the only thing he ever wanted was the truth. He knows that’s what he’s looking for as he stumbles blindly forward. The lights are so bright, burning away everything impure and unholy. There are no shadows for him to hide in. No dark corners for him to run to.

_What’s done in the dark–_

Guilt embraces him like a lover. He has carried this guilt in his heart for so long, like a soldier with a bullet lodged in his skin. It’s too dangerous to touch, too dangerous to remove. He carries it like Atlas carried the world. Like Mary carried Jesus, like Jesus carried our sins.

This guilt is like vines and thorns, like a wall of briars grown around him, a monster between him and his sleeping beauty, chasing him so quickly, just on his heels, toying with him, biting and cutting and making him bleed. Always making him bleed, and he has to stop the bleeding, someone will see, someone will say something, his parents will ask questions and he’ll get in so much trouble because good boys don’t bleed on the bathroom floor, and if he does, he is not a child of God, he is a sinner and he is wicked and he needs to allow God to come inside of him and fill him until he is pure.

He remembers going to the nurses office, making up some excuse about feeling sick, so he can go home, please please he just wants to go home, please he just wants this to end, and he knows it’s a sin to lie, but his whole life seems to be made up of sin as of late. He wants to call his parents, lay in the dark of the office awaiting their arrival, eyes shut, and his tears are like blood on his cheeks, blood soaking his thighs from a loss of innocence, blood dripping from his mouth from biting his tongue. Blood dripping from her shoes and landing on his face and he can’t stop crying, he needs to stop crying, but he looks up and sees her hanging there, like a pack of animals had ripped the innocence from her body, blood flowing from her nose and between her legs. So much blood, always, raining down on him, splattering on his pale face, but it’s okay because you’re supposed to bleed your first time. That’s how you know God has made you ready.

_What’s done in the dark will come–_

He must welcome the monster into his heart. The monster is his oldest friend. It has known him for longer than any companion, more intimately than any lover. Its hands know him so well, its tongue has tasted every bit of his body, and it says he tastes so good, so sweet and young and untainted, not like her, she was fallen and promiscuous and she deserved to die. Would God fault Samson for killing Delilah? Adam for killing Lilith? Or the eunuchs for killing Jezebel? She deserved it. She deserved it. You deserve it–

It’s your fault. It’s your fault.

_It’s my fault._

He has spent so many years running from the truth, a truth with hands that touch and teeth that bite. He is so tired from holding the dam closed. His back is breaking from the strain of it.

Let it all fall down around him. Let the Red Sea swallow him whole and drag him down into the depths. It doesn’t even matter anymore.

He’s been fighting for so long. It‘s so much easier to just give in.

_What’s done in the dark will come to the light._

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i’m back to my sad outlast shit. i wrote this randomly when i was theorizing about blake’s childhood and what actually happened.


End file.
